


Absolute Beginners

by scrapbullet



Series: Born To [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Drabble, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 13:19:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2193291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapbullet/pseuds/scrapbullet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps it is petty of him, to keep some semblance of familial history from the two younglings sitting entranced by his feet as he weaves the tale of the Great and Terrible Dragon that besieged the Dwarven Kingdom of Erebor, but he has ever sought to keep them safe from the horrors of the world.  And oh, there are so very, very <i>many</i>.</p><p>"Why didn't anyone help them, Da?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolute Beginners

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into English available: [Absolute Beginners](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2857115) by [suirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suirin/pseuds/suirin)



> In truth I have absolutely no idea where this drabble series is going, beyond a few pertinent plot-points, and I had every intention of diving in head first and hoping for the best, except Bain and Sigrid decided to be _children_ \- because that's what they are, even if one of their parents is _Thranduil_ \- and this ended up popping out. 
> 
> So, please, take it for what it is - a ridic fluffy interlude in a 'verse where Thranduil has no qualms about taking an unknown!human!omega and drugging him to induce his less-than-frequent heats. Eep.

Once, the Kingdom of the Greenwood stood as tall and strong as the trunk of an oak tree and the Elves that dwelled within were content, for their roots ran deep and immovable. Hither and thither they sang and drank Dorwinion wine beneath the boughs, made love and made merry, their palms ever-touching the life that grew from the soil; communing with nature itself. The darkness did not dare to venture in, not then, when King Thranduil was nothing more than a babe in arms.

But not even the mighty Gil-Galad himself could have kept the Shadow from creeping forth, even had he lived past that fateful day told in song and story.

Bard does not tell his children these stories. Perhaps it is petty of him, to keep some semblance of familial history from the two younglings sitting entranced by his feet as he weaves the tale of the Great and Terrible Dragon that besieged the Dwarven Kingdom of Erebor, but he has ever sought to keep them safe from the horrors of the world. And oh, there are so very, very _many_.

"Why didn't anyone help them, Da?" Bain asks, his face drawn into a faintly comical expression of curiosity. He lisps through a sizeable gap where his two front teeth once were-

_(Bard had received the shock of his life when the boy had toppled head-first off of a twisting, ineffectually decorative branch onto the floor, for although Bain is as light on as his feet as any Elf he is by no means as graceful, his balance easily thrown from the structural support of their main living quarters by Sigrid yelling for their father; imperious little tattletale that she is._

_And yet, as impressive a fall as it was, the boy had not managed to injure himself unduly; only knocking free two milk teeth that had been loose for close to a week anyway, clutched in Bain's still-grubby paw._

_After that Bard refused to take his gaze away from his youngest, lest he somehow manage to kill himself in the few short seconds it would take to deal with Sigrid tugging on his tunic. Suffice to say that Bain chafed at having to stay within a foot of his Da at all times._

_Well, Bard had said, tough luck.)_

-frowning as if he can't quite comprehend the idea of so many Dwarrow wandering Middle-Earth with not even a single person offering aid. "Why didn't Adar help them?"

Before Bard can open his mouth to speak Sigrid pipes up, looking at her brother as if he's emitted horse manure from his mouth. "Don't be daft, Bain, everyone knows that Elves dislike Dwarrows. Haven't you been paying _any_ attention in Bregtathar's lessons?"

Bain, being a boy of seven summers and thus easy to provoke, responds by poking a finger under Sigrid's ribs - that place he knows all too well makes her squeal shrilly with indignation and bat uselessly at his questing digits; ticklish. The ensuing bout - that Sigrid wins, of course, sitting on her brothers back and crowing triumphantly in Sindarin - has Bard palming his face and heaving a sigh, wondering how on Middle-Earth he managed to produce two such unruly - _utterly human_ \- children.

They're going to give him grey hair before too long.


End file.
